Hot and stoned in western Canada
January 23rd, 2006
For Christmas, my in-laws give me a gift certificate to a spa near Banff. I am in an everybody-just-keep-your-mitts-off-of-me frame of mind, so I opt for the deluxe superduper organic mud seaweed ankle wrap paraffin soak fab buff and polish pedicure. Aside from reiki, which I tend to think of as the Emperor’s New Spa Service, I figure a pedicure is my best bet for minimizing human touch.
I have never had a professional pedicure. My at-home pedicures consist of me hunched on the floor of our dim dungeon of a bathroom, globbing red polish on the sides of toes, getting high on fumes, praying no one will interrupt me mid-schleppicure and force me to run down the hall through thickets of dog fur and tiny Polly Pockets accessories, all of which will adhere to my wet toenails.
When my sister-in-law Jill (David’s brother’s wife, who has also been gifted with a spa certificate) and I arrive at the spa, the woman behind the desk informs me that they have double-booked the pedicure folks. My pedicure is now completely out of the question. I sheepishly hang my head, knowing I have somehow caused this to happen. I have very strong irrational guilt reflexes, finely tuned, very responsive, virtuoso! Fortunately, irrational guilt is always in! So Catholic school! So retro!
But Jill the Defender pounces on the poor woman, demanding with Staten Island flair to know what the spa is willing to offer me in place of a pedicure. The woman runs for cover and consultation in the back.
I hide behind my clipboard and medical form (Have you been previously diagnosed as likely to die of sheer mortification if anyone besides your spouse touches your unclothed body? Yes. Will you be offended if your massage therapist is unable to repress his/her revulsion? Yes. Do you have any pet names for your cellulite and/or varicose veins that you would like your massage therapist to use during your treatment? No. Would you like to be spanked by your massage therapist or provided with any additional humiliation services? No preference.)
The verdict comes back: Any facial I want. Or any aromatherapy treatment. Sniffing oil sounds hands-off enough for me.
“Are you kidding me? A facial? Aromatherapy? That’s the best you can offer?” Jill is a customer-service pitbull.
I spend more time with my nose pressed to my clipboard as the verdict is overturned. A new verdict comes back: Any treatment I want. A full-body wrap with any dead sea creature on hand, a hearty whipping with a birch log, a hot stone massage. No extra charge, anything at all, at the price of the Lost Pedicure.
“Ooh, the hot stone massage is amazing, eh?” one woman in the waiting area offers. “You should go for that.”
I consider this. I like the concept of inanimate objects working as a buffer zone between me and the massage therapist. Hot steamy little bodyguards! Step away from the cellulite. No pictures, please. Back away from the love handles. No fondling the talent.
“I’m in,” I say.
I am introduced to my masseuse, a tall, quirky brunette. It takes a medium-sized, quirky brunette to know a tall, quirky brunette. Let’s call her Mika. “You can put your clothes on that chair,” says Mika, in a tone. It is a tone. I am not sure what variety of tone, but it is definitely a tone, not simply “You can put your clothes on that chair,” but “You can put your clothes on that chair” or “You can put your clothes on that chair.”
When people talk to me, I hear formatting.
“You can leave your panties on,” she says. I blush. I always blush when I hear the word panties. I am going to make myself a T-shirt that says PLEASE DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT PANTIES.
Mika leaves and I strip fast to prevent mooning her upon her reentry. No one needs that sort of thing just before supper. I assume the face-down position with my head in the padded horseshoe and struggle to haul the sheet up and over my tush, nearly dislocating my elbows.
Mika returns. I am not double-jointed and thus have not managed to cover my rump with the sheet. “Cute panties,” she says. I have had a few massages in my life, and I scan my brain for any recollection of underpants compliments. File not found.
“Uh, thanks,” I say.
Suddenly, Mika snaps the elastic waistband of my underpants. Hard. My chin falls through the horseshoe and onto the floor. I am in an alternate universe, a lewd place where masseuses finger your underpants and snap them.
Mika goes about her stoning prep as if nothing out of the ordinary has just occurred. Perhaps she is mildly epileptic? Perhaps the button of her hemp tunic has caught on the elastic of my underpants? Many, many explanations, surely.
Obscene squishy puckery oil sounds off to my right. “These are no ordinary stones,” says Mika. “They’re organic stones.”
I retrieve my chin and press my face harder against the fluffy horseshoe to prevent a fit of nervous giggling.
“Organic rocks?” I mumble into the terrycloth.
“VOLCANIC STONES. I said VOLCANIC.”
I can feel an attack of inappropriateness coming on. I try to chew the horseshoe and think of a field of broken toys strewn with dead kittens.
“I harvested them myself, from the ocean,” says Mika. “These are not stones from the Internet. These are stones with soul, with spirit. These stones have stories.”
“What ocean?” It is important to differentiate.
“The Pacific.” She is very annoyed with me.
“Harvested from the Pacific. A nature harvest. Very natural.”
“Yes,” says Mika.
I try to share. I have never harvested stones, but I have seen some nature recently. “I saw a bighorn sheep today. And a snowshoe hare. How about that. Now what do you—ahHHAAAH!”
Mika has finished lubing up the hot stones and has gotten down to business. She presses the little volcanic wonders into my flesh, skidding them all the way up the back of my thighs. The dead kittens make room for images of lit trails of gasoline and Evel Knievel stunts. They flood my overtaxed brain.
“Ahh-HAAAH!” I say. “It’s very…ahhhh…OH…oh my—”
“Isn’t it something?”
It is something. I manage to keep breathing as the flames engulf me, a la Joan of Arc. “It’s not every day that you get to experience a completely new sensation,” I say. I can smell my scorched flesh, my legs transforming into strips of human bacon.
“A new sensation! Exactly! Aren’t you clever,” says Mika, jamming the stones into my gluteus magna cum laude. “Be sure to tell me if the pressure is too much.”
“Well, now that you mention it—”
Mika ignores my whimpering and seems to be doing a handstand on my rear end. “Some of my clients say that I like to pretend that the muscles are men and I’m taking it out on them! Isn’t that funny! Taking it out on them! Because they know I hate men! Ha!”
“You hate men? All men?”
More stones burrow into my flesh, becoming one with my femur. “Of course not!” said Mika. “Only most of them! No, totally kidding! When’s your birthday?”
“June 22nd.”
“Really? That was the day of my first wedding!”
“You renewed your vows?”
Now she is searing my upper back. “Different men! Ha! Ha ha! Now I’m dating a guy that people say is Daffy Duck on crack! Ha! You can flip over now!”
I meekly obey. “Well, he must have some redeeming qualities,” I say. She is making me very nervous.
“Daffy Duck’s got broad shoulders. Daffy Duck’s got a real tight ass and knows how to dance. Hot. But tonight I’m going dancing with four cowboys while he’s out of town. I can’t wait.”
“Cowboys dance?” I say. Mika ignores me. She is sautéing the stones again. “Are you going to put them on my face?” I ask.
“Yes. When I DROP THEM ON YOUR FACE,” she says. She squishes more oil onto her hands. “Totally kidding! Ha!”
My passive-aggressive masseuse begins placing stones on my forehead, on the hollow of my throat, on my sternum, on my belly. The one on the hollow of my throat is disturbing me. I am growing agitated. I cannot swallow. I do not want a paperweight on my throat.
“Um, the one on my throat feels kind of unpleasant. Do you think we can maybe—“
“Of COURSE IT DOES,” she coos. “That’s your throat chakra. Obviously, you have a lot to say, and you’re not expressing it.”
I have been with my in-laws for three weeks, on my best behavior, so this is a distinct possibility.
“Interesting,” I say. I am trying to gargle with my own spit to dislodge the stone.
She plucks the stone from my chakra and fires up my shoulders. “You need to go stand in a field and scream. That’s what you need. Let it all out.”
I think Mika needs to stand in a field and scream for a very long time. I try to picture myself standing in a field and screaming and punching trees as my Canadian in-laws watch nervously from the car. I start laughing. I cannot stop.
I am irritating Mika. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know why that’s so funny.”
I manage to get myself under control. Then Mika starts jamming hot rocks in between my toes. It is obscene.
I crack up again. Hysterical psych-ward laughing.
“My, aren’t you just a giggler. Adorable.” She does not sound pleased.
“It’s just, well, it seems a little intimate. The toe thing.” I am struggling to control myself, but my toes are being violated. She has just deflowered my toes. My toes are no longer virgins and they have no one to talk to except my ankles, who will never understand what they have been through.
Mika abandons my toes and shoves a stone into my kneecap. “Are you getting enough action?”
I open my eyes to stare at her. “Did you just ask me if I’m getting enough action?”
“Are you? Oh, there you go again. Aren’t you something. Just adorable.” She wedges a flaming stone into my armpit.
I am convulsing. I am going rigid. Steaming stones pop from my body and onto the floor. My hysterical laughter is bouncing off the flimsy walls and bleeding through the cracks into other people’s spa treatments. I am not the ideal client.
I try to calm my wheezing. “I’ve just…never…had a massage therapist…ask me…if I’m getting any.”
“Well?” she demands.
“I think I’m doing okay in that department.”
“Let me just say that your sex chakra seems a little blocked.”
“I’ll tell my husband.”
“Your heart chakra seems open, though.” She is wrapping up. She has not touched my arms. I am afraid to ask her to touch my arms. They feel very cold in comparison to the rest of my body, virtually hypothermic.
“How can you tell? About my heart chakra.” I have regained control. I have brought back the dead kittens, and they are helping.
“I’m a reiki master. And I do voice-overs,” she says.
That’s it. Game over. The dead kittens in my brain morph into Daffy Duck the crack addict and all hope of recovery disappears. There is no going back. Howls and snorts. Gulping and shrieking. Stones rain down on the floor.
“My goodness! Our time is up already! I just hate to leave you!” says Mika. She snaps on the lights and hurries from the room.
I am out of control. Wave after wave. I am Having A Fit. When I make my way out to the booking area, I snort loudly. Everyone glares at me.
“That was you, wasn’t it?” asks my sister-in-law. “I could hear you the whole time. Everyone could hear you.”
“She told me that my chakras say I need to go scream in a field. Then she violated my toes and asked me if I’m getting laid.” I am howling again. I am weeping. I am warm jiggling Jell-O.
Jill stares at me, then bundles me off to the car. “I can’t believe you let her talk to you like that.”
I wipe my eyes. I try to take deep breaths. No go. We pass a good-sized field. I make a mental note.
That night over dinner, my in-laws ask me about my massage. Jill and I look down at our plates.
“It was fine,” I say. “Just fine.”
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Time-out. (General insanity), See Mommy laugh. (Favorites)
55 Comments
1. R J Keefe | January 23rd, 2006 at 12:32 pm
This reminds me of my first colonoscopy. Coked to the gills on Demerol, I convulsed through the entire procedure trying to make sure that I didn’t ask the doctor what struck me as the funniest question in the world: “Do you like what you do?”
2. Patti | January 23rd, 2006 at 12:54 pm
“I can’t believe you let her talk to you like that.” ?????
what were you supposed to do…shove a lubed rock down her chakra? Hahahhahhaha
Once I learned of her Reiki master standing, I would’ve had to know exactly which chakra was being cleansed by the whole panty-snapping thing. Maybe that was the equivalent of unblocking you for all the lovely s-e-x she felt you’re not having.
Okay honestly, that’s the weirdest spa story I’ve ever heard!!!
3. the Mater | January 23rd, 2006 at 1:13 pm
Methinks that Mika was looking for a little action herself when she snapped your panties! Shades of Brokeback Mountain … there’s a screenplay in this somewhere, Jenn.
From tears over aging canines and ruined raspberry bushes to LOL at hot stones and blocked chakras … you’ve made my day!
Thanks, Mom (who is trying to control her fits of giggles as colleagues peer nervously into her office)
4. Nichole | January 23rd, 2006 at 1:20 pm
And that’s why I will never, never get a massage. You never fail to crack me up.
5. Kate | January 23rd, 2006 at 1:22 pm
I just love hearing other’s spa stories! My first-ever massage was with a Eugene, Oregon hippie/lesbian /feminist on the day the OJ Simpson verdict came out. Let me just say, IT WAS NOT RELAXING. Took me years to give it another try, but am now a convert!
6. Mir | January 23rd, 2006 at 1:36 pm
THAT was worth waiting a month for! LOL!
7. Kelly | January 23rd, 2006 at 1:40 pm
Dang it, I’ve been wanting to try the hot stone massage… but I am very tickleish, so I think I may pass! This had me laughing with you!
8. TRF | January 23rd, 2006 at 1:51 pm
SNORT!&%#!!!KRFLNSKT!(^#3GARFRAKNL%!@3!!!
Another keyboard gone.
Funniest thing I have EVER read.
9. Simon | January 23rd, 2006 at 2:07 pm
Oooooo!!
There’s the next Cafepress T-shirt:
You can deflower my toes, but please don’t talk to me about panties.
10. Paula | January 23rd, 2006 at 3:01 pm
I’ve always believed spas were torture chambers designed to give sadists a honest living. I was right! And Jenn, I give YOU the passive-aggressive win for scaring her off with laughter.
11. casy | January 23rd, 2006 at 3:09 pm
Wait, Wait! I am a Licensed massage therapist and this is nuts! I can’t believe someone would be so tactless and unprofessional! One of my clients told me a story about a massage therapist FALLING ASLEEP while she was giving her a massage! She was laying on the table not sure what to do, but when that therapist started to snore she was out of there.
Very funny story though.
12. Spot the Wonder Dog | January 23rd, 2006 at 3:51 pm
Several observations:
1.) The woman who has discussed her butt girdle, fear of pooping during child birth, and flashing her breasts at strangers on an airplane… blushes when she hears the word “panties”. Perhaps it would be easier to talk about them if they were on fire, or falling down your leg during an awards ceremony or something.
2.) Do you think it might be possible that the woman at the front counter regarded you sister-in-law as somewhat, let’s say- snarky, and communicated this to the masseuse? They say angry sex is hot, but I’m not so sure about an angry backrub.
3.) You also realize, of course, that the frequent appearance of the word “panties”, particularly “cute panties”, may affect your Google traffic. “Deflowering toes” may have a similar effect.
13. Dawn | January 23rd, 2006 at 3:52 pm
I love hot stone massages, but you have to have a good person so they aren’t poaching the top layer of your epidermis as they rub.
I am whispering as I type casue this was so funny, I think I may have laughed out loud, infoming my boss that I can’t possibly be working.
The toe de-flowering. How bout
“Now only my ankles are virgins”
14. mom on a wire | January 23rd, 2006 at 4:00 pm
I’m always afraid the masseuse can read my mind when they’re working on me. I try to never think anything personal about them, like “It is very uncomfortable to have her boobs brush my back when she leans over me like that” or “I wonder what she does to her husband with moves like THAT!”
15. geogirl | January 23rd, 2006 at 4:28 pm
Yee Gods woman!!!
never have I laughed so hard and felt SO UNCOMFORTABLE at the same time.
That woman doesn’t have issues…she has a subscription!!
You should have asked her if the organic stones were free range as well
p.s. -
You had me at “when people talk to me, I hear formatting”
16. jennifer | January 23rd, 2006 at 4:37 pm
why do i even try to read you when i’m at work? the snorts are earning me some very funny looks around here…
(Would you like to be spanked by your massage therapist or provided with any additional humiliation services? No preference.)
oh, god!
17. kt flynnie | January 23rd, 2006 at 5:58 pm
i thought panties made everyone giggle…and who asks if you are getting any???? i think Mika should be in a christopher guest movie, she sounds perfect for it
18. moxiemomma | January 23rd, 2006 at 6:13 pm
oh, please, please can i be your friend?! i heart your stories, especially this one! i tried to do the spa/pedicure thing for the exact same reasons and lo they were double booked (uncanny, eh?), but i did not (thankfully, i can see now) have a pitbull sister-in-law to get me a hotstonemika massage and now i will go shred that gift certificate and feel just fine about it!
19. Sheryl | January 23rd, 2006 at 7:25 pm
I think laughing that hard must align any chalkrocks. I aligned a few myself reading this.
20. crazy cousin becky | January 23rd, 2006 at 8:15 pm
Jenn, I had no idea that the word ‘panties’ made you so uncomfortable. I will tell you the solution, Elmo panties. Gee, I wish I had sent you a pair before this experience!
21. JustLinda | January 23rd, 2006 at 8:17 pm
No pet names for your cellulite or varicose veins? Well, tell me you have at LEAST named your stretch marks!!!
That was too funny…. I’m still chuckling over the toes telling their story to the ankles but the ankles just not understanding… hhahaha
22. Bethany | January 23rd, 2006 at 9:49 pm
“I’m a reiki master. And I do voice-overs,” she says.
Right about there I had to stop and take a deep breath, I was laughing so hard.
Now I’ve got to go and find myself some organic rocks. Harvested straight from the ocean.
Hilarious!
23. ChristyD | January 23rd, 2006 at 10:27 pm
I’m so glad you’re back. I’m rolling with laughter.
24. Pink Rocket | January 23rd, 2006 at 10:45 pm
I am laughing so hard that I’m in tears. That was the funniest thing ever? I seriously need all your posts in a book.
25. the Australian spa mag editors | January 23rd, 2006 at 10:51 pm
ok…weeping, squarking, howling, luckily we kept control of our pantie clad bits –just! hilarious thank you thank you for the best half hour as i read aloud …. hari having to wait while I got it back together enough to speak … very very funny …so can we publish it..please please !!!!
26. tracy | January 23rd, 2006 at 11:18 pm
oh no. i just won (i WON! WOOHOO!) a free massage at a super hippy-dippy spa here in oregon. it’s called venus envy, for god’s sake! your post scared me even more than the thought of some wide-hipped, patchouli-smelling earth mother in birkies rubbing my back, but i think i may just have to go, if only for a good story to tell.
27. sogal | January 24th, 2006 at 12:32 am
oh noooooooo i need new panties now!
seriously you are hysterical - and again SO GLAD YOU ARE BACK … brightening up my rainy slushy monday night.
the cats think i am going crazy, um, crazier [i know better than to read you at work ;o]
28. margalit | January 24th, 2006 at 1:29 am
Well, that free massage at the day spa I got for Hanukkah will remain in my drawer. No way can I ever, in a million years, handle a whacko like the Reike Master Hot Rock masseuse. Nope, no way.
Totally hilarious. I’ll be using my massager from the Sharper Image from now on.
29. chris | January 24th, 2006 at 6:11 am
i lost and regained control almost as often as you did during this story. i can see your book “stories from the spa” as a best-seller someday!
30. katie hudson | January 24th, 2006 at 6:28 am
i have been laughing so hard at my desk everyone i work with thinks i am the crazy one, so i am sharing mika with them.
31. Diana | January 24th, 2006 at 9:51 am
My sister gave me two gift certificates to a massage when I was pregnant- I have yet to use them for just this reason…I would DIE if I had a Mika…
See what happens when you say “no preference” to being provided with any additional humiliating services???
And I do think they were punishing you because of Jill, Mika probably thought you were her…
32. Imperfect Mommy | January 24th, 2006 at 10:44 am
I am so glad I am not the only one who is not into the whole spa thing. Maybe it’s a control issue. When I went in for a facial that I had a gift certificate for, she said I should take my top off and cover with a sheet, so that’s what I did. Then she made me feel like some sort of prude that I didn’t take my pants, socks, and bra off too. It was a facial, I thought? WTF? I do the pedicures, but stick to my Asian nails place b/c they are quick. I hate the whole long, drawn-out spa procedures. I get way too antsy.
What a story, though…
33. Contary | January 24th, 2006 at 11:13 am
Geez, I thought I left a comment last night. I don’t even have a hot stone massage to blame.
My birthday is coming up and hubby’s on me to tell him what I want. Everyone says ‘Get a massage! You’ll love it!’ Lying liars.
I go to Hot Springs, Arkansas (the massage capital of the world, people) at least twice a year. If I won’t get a massage there, I’m sure not doing it here.
When poor hubby tries to rub my back I end up giggling and screaming, think what I would do with Helga (or Minga or Heidi or some other name that conjures up the image of some big blond braided muscled chick)
34. September | January 24th, 2006 at 11:13 am
Oh, man, that was funny. I was laughing so hard my contact lens popped out. I can relate, spa treatments are just so strangely intimate and weird.
35. Glam Jo | January 24th, 2006 at 12:46 pm
I don’t even like strangers seeing me with my clothes ON let alone snapping my undies and fornicating my feet. VERY funny story………
36. jewels23 | January 24th, 2006 at 1:34 pm
O, Lord! Tears are streaming down my cheeks. Fortuantely, I read this while my boss was at lunch! Now I definitely know why I don’t have massages!
37. Lou | January 24th, 2006 at 6:40 pm
I am CRYING reading this!
38. Alice Ziemak | January 24th, 2006 at 8:03 pm
Jenn, I don’t know if I will ever be able to have a massage again without your words bubbling out of my head! I have never laughed so hard. Something new, I never realized how “sexually active” my toes can be! Gotta look out for any “Mika” who saute’s stones. Maybe at my next massage session. Jenn, you need to get that book written - we are all ready and waiting for you!! You are a MASTER of comedy.
39. roo | January 25th, 2006 at 12:01 am
“He said you ran Tonka trucks up and down his back!”
“HE SAID HE LIKED THAT ONE!”
40. Ivoryfrog | January 25th, 2006 at 2:56 am
So funny! I have never been to a spa before and I don’t think I ever will now! My baby got milkshake I was laughing so much!
41. Sheri | January 25th, 2006 at 12:47 pm
Oh my God! I am laughing outloud. That definitely belongs in a script, truth is stranger than fiction.
42. (a different) Jen | January 25th, 2006 at 12:57 pm
Laughed my ass off, especially about the Catholic guilt. I too used to be one of those people who felt responsible for EVERYTHING, EVER, and am only now getting over it.
That said, I luuuurve spa treatments. I saved up my pennies and had an amazing facial last week, and I’m still psyched about it. I have yet to have a *bad* massage experience, although the woman who was dying to talk to me about Romanian history was the worst (Did you know that the Polish king Jan Sobieski is the Romanian’s favorite Pole? Well, that’s what I found out.) I’ve gotta stop telling people what I study and where my family is from =P.
43. Armaedes | January 25th, 2006 at 1:04 pm
No kidding, Canadians really say “eh”? I thought that was a myth or something. Do you also have royal mounties, marmosets and milk in a bag?
44. Sarah | January 26th, 2006 at 10:49 am
Thanks for the laugh! I emailed it to my sisters as they help me decide what i should do with my spa gift certificate. : )
45. Rebecca | January 26th, 2006 at 4:57 pm
Oh, God, have I missed your writing.
Thanks for the giggle-turned-chuckle-turned-outright-guffaw. I must know, were you writing this in your mind as you were lying there laughing?
46. Hermit | January 27th, 2006 at 2:01 pm
I laughed so hard I quit breathing.
“I am a reiki master. And I do voice-overs.” I will never ever forget that line.
When he came to see why I was passing out, my guy read it. He also loved the “file not found.”
Gotta say we are both massage lovers. We’ve had a zillion between us, but I’ve only filled out a form once and he never has, and we’ve never gotten anyone so awful nor come out with as good a story. Alas, eh?
I’m sending links to this to everyone I know. You’re fantastic!
47. JenfromBoston | January 29th, 2006 at 11:31 pm
I laughed through this entire entry. Since my fiance was in the room watching tv, I tried to keep it down to a dull roar, and was covering my mouth trying to stufle my tee-heeing. much like you @ the spa, my efforts were so very futile. At one point he had to say to me, “you all right there, chief?”
You had me at “snaps the elactic waistband of my underpants…” Maybe they should consider giving people a leather belt to bite down on.
MVP, Jenn.
48. meg | January 31st, 2006 at 10:41 pm
Oh man, that was the funniest thing I have read in a LONG time. Oh my oh my! I tried to stifle it cause people are watching a movie but I just lost it!
49. momoflots | February 4th, 2006 at 6:50 am
I have not laughed like that in…well a long time. That was histarical. It is late, my kids are sleeping and I am trying not to wake them laughing. They would think I have finally lost it.
50. Coley | February 4th, 2006 at 4:15 pm
Jenn, don’t ever stop writing. This was brilliant!!
51. lauren | February 23rd, 2006 at 12:10 pm
I’m in school for massage therapy and Mika sounded kind of crazy. The whole time I was reading I had her speaking with a dutch accent, did she? Only because I don’t think an actual massage therapist from this country would speak to you like that. I’m sorry for you experience. I promise not ALL massage therapist are like that. As far as you worrying about your love handles, I would not be so self consience, especially to a massage therapist. Actually, the more you have to work with, the better. Skinny people are kind of hard to tell if you are hurting them or not and they always want super deep pressure. Anyway, sorry your toes got raped
52. velocibadgergirl | February 25th, 2006 at 2:56 pm
ROFL!!! Honest, I nearly choked. You should warn people not to read these while sneaking some blog time at work!
I’m sending a link to my massage-therapist best friend right now.
53. Jenni | April 3rd, 2006 at 7:20 am
Oh my, I have tears streaming down my face, I’ve just found your blog via another blogger, and you are hilarious woman! Love it!
54. Sheri | April 17th, 2006 at 2:07 pm
Drew and I both got stone massages on our honeymoon at the ship’s spa. I was a bit weary b/c I had read your blog and I had trouble not laughing at first - but mine and Drew’s went really well! I loved it! Came out soooooooo relaxed and can’t wait to try it again. Definitely depends on the therapist so better luck next time if you dare to do it again!
55. Nancy | July 7th, 2006 at 5:10 pm
AHAHHAHA *giggles* I completely understand the “don’t touch me” feeling, i’ve never considered going to a spa for that very reason. Far too funny of a story, altough it does sound a bit traumatizing. I need to learn to not open links my friend’s send me while I’m working. =D
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